Parents Want Son's Killer

Geneva Couple Hopes To Raise $100,000 To Obtain Conviction

November 20, 1998|By Lisa Black, Tribune Staff Writer.

Brendon Anderson cooked bacon the day he died. He left his bed unmade and some dirty laundry in a pile.

In many ways, he was a typical 21-year-old and on his own, but he had not outgrown an ability to tell his parents he loved them, as he often did through yellow self-stick notes left around the family's Geneva home.

On March 16, after Anderson and acquaintance Elias "Junior" Calcano, 21, were found shot and burned in a dreary Aurora alley where gangs frequently hung out, Anderson's parents went to their son's apartment to find clothes for the funeral.

There, they were overwhelmed by the commonplace sights of the frying pan on the stove, the mussed bed, the dirty clothes.

Today, a grief-stricken Rob and Kathy Anderson are trying to "buy information" on their son's killer by raising a $100,000 reward.

"I don't want to feel revenge," said Rob Anderson, 49, who broke into tears as he talked about Brendon. "I don't want to feel hatred, because that gives them credence. But I do want justice."

The Andersons hope to raise reward money through a raffle and fundraiser from 5 to 11 p.m. Dec. 11 at the Geneva Park District Community Center, 710 Western Ave., off Fabyan Parkway. Donations also may be deposited under the Robert Anderson Reward Fund at the Bank of Sugar Grove, P.O. Box 510, Sugar Grove, Ill. 60554.

Helping in their cause is Greg Zanis of Aurora, who believes his offer of a $10,000 reward led to the conviction of a man who murdered his father-in-law two years ago.

Zanis erects white crosses at the scene of every Aurora homicide or traffic-related death.

"They just want to do something," Zanis said. "The average person doesn't want to do anything. They just mope."

"It won't lessen our pain," Rob Anderson said of the reward, to be given for information leading to a conviction. "But it will give us some peace of mind. There are evil, evil people out there."

Calcano's family is not involved in the Andersons' crusade.

Anderson and Calcano were found outside Anderson's 1992 black Cadillac about 6 a.m. in a littered alley filled with overgrown weeds and bordered by broken-down homes and graffiti-covered garages.

Calcano had been beaten severely and was shot in the neck, according to the Andersons. Their son was shot in the head. The bodies had been doused with gasoline and set aflame.

Gang violence is not new to the neighborhood, where other slayings have occurred, he said.

Ferrelli described the investigation as ongoing and said police have no solid suspects. He declined to say whether a $100,000 reward could help or harm the case.

He credited citizen involvement in the decline in Aurora homicides since 1996, when 26 kililngs were reported. In 1997, there were 20 homicides. This year, there have been 10.

Rob Anderson praised the police efforts but acknowledged his frustration. Houses surround the alley where his son's body was found and yet, "Nobody saw anything?" Anderson said.

The Andersons are adamant that Brendon Anderson was not involved in drugs. They described him as an average student in high school who enjoyed playing basketball and, at age 18, had his initials tattooed on his stomach over their objections.

Anderson, who attended West Aurora High School for two years before the family moved to Geneva, kept some of his old friends, despite his parents' disapproval.

He had been shot at once before, four years ago in an Aurora neighborhood, having been mistaken as a gang member, Rob Anderson said. The family put their home on the market the next day, he said, adding that the teenager who shot at Brendon called to apologize the next day. Brendon refused to name the boy.

Nine months before his death, Anderson moved into a North Aurora apartment. He worked at Flinn Scientific Inc., in Batavia, as an order-packer handling products for science classrooms. He had just signed up for an orientation course at Waubonsee Community College while trying to decide on career prospects, said Kathy Anderson, 49.

She recalled driving to her son's workplace on the day of his death, after not finding him at his apartment where they were scheduled to meet.

While returning home, she was flagged down by a friend who told her of Brendon's death.

She called her husband, a commercial photographer in Chicago. He drove home, bombarded with horrific thoughts during the two-hour trip.

When he reached the morgue, Rob Anderson broke down when he realized he could recognize his son only by the tattoo.

"His little hand was sticking up from his body, and I kissed it," said Anderson, who still thinks of his son as a child.

For Anderson's funeral, his parents placed in the coffin a scrap of his "blankie" that his grandmother had given him when he was young. The numbers 4, 5 and 9, a family code to demonstrate affection, are engraved on the tombstone. The numbers correspond with the first letters of "I love you" on the phone dialing pad.

"You go through phases where you have good days and bad days," Rob Anderson said. "It never goes away. You feel you will mourn forever."